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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29394351">Nice to Meet You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calcitron/pseuds/Calcitron'>Calcitron</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Getting Together, Kissing, M/M, Panic Attacks, Therapy, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, You Have Been Warned, anders is their therapist, because these boys need it, do not use in place of medical advice, even though he needs the most therapy, fear of therapy, idiots to lovers, judgmental cats, not actually written by a licensed therapist, this is a kissing book, unspecified trauma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:54:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,350</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29394351</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calcitron/pseuds/Calcitron</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>To keep his job, Cullen must attend mandatory counseling sessions. If only the idea of airing out all his trauma didn't fill him with blind panic. Luckily, a kind and helpful co-worker he isn't acquainted with offers a helping hand.</p><p>Or, my response to the idea of two strangers doing couples counseling together.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dorian Pavus/Cullen Rutherford</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Nice to Meet You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Alternate summary: I saw this tumblr post <a href="https://www.reddit.com/r/tumblr/comments/ldjctd/couples_therapy/">on reddit</a> ("Anyone down to take couples counseling and see at what point the therapist realizes we don't even know each other?"), freaked out, and wrote this immediately.</p><p>Thank you <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fianna_Ai">Fianna</a>, for being my proofreading eyes while I have none. Please forgive any remaining typos, I wrote this half-blind. Really. I had a minor eye surgery two weeks ago. I kept putting commas instead of periods.<br/> <br/>Have an early Valentine's gift, <a href="https://discord.gg/zHkdy24Zq5">Cullrian Discord!</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Continuous motion flickered back and forth in the periphery of Dorian’s vision. It was enough to eventually distract from his peaceful mid-afternoon reverie—a podcast and piping hot tea made the remainder of the day a bit more bearable. Pulling out his earphones, Dorian looked across the break area to see an agitated coworker pacing through the hallway to the kitchen and back out past a few nearby office doors. Upon closer inspection, the man looked sweaty and pale, a small tremble detectable even at this distance as he clasped and rubbed his palms together. Was he about to vomit? The restrooms were on the opposite end of the floor. If he was that disoriented he could probably use some assistance. It would be a shame if he ruined his dark slacks and neutral button up before Dorian had the chance to delicately explain how dreadfully staid it was.</p><p>He hardly knew the man, though. The blonde man would probably not welcome an intrusion when he was so clearly distressed. Perhaps he’d best leave it. Twirling his earbud skillfully on the table’s surface, he glanced back at his phone to avoid being caught staring. It wouldn’t hurt to discreetly monitor the situation for a moment.</p><p>The pale wraith suddenly ceased his pacing, leaning heavily against the wall as he closed his eyes and emitted a quiet groan. Dorian tapped his finger against his kneecap agitatedly. This situation was escalating quickly which simply wouldn’t do.</p><p>Rising from his seat facing out towards the view of the downtown metro, he walked purposefully, but slowly, towards the distressed man. “Hello there,” he called softly, when he was still a few feet away. This close, he was able to appreciate the physical presence of the other man much better, even with him curling in on himself in strain. They certainly did grow them big in the south.</p><p>As he’d feared the other man startled violently, almost jumping away from the wall as though it’d suddenly turned to snakes. Clutching at his chest and breathing heavily, he made a valiant attempt at a smile. “Good…” he swallowed, and took another gulp of air, “Good afternoon.”</p><p>Dorian matched the crumbling smile with a gently wry one of his own. He, unfortunately, knew first hand what it felt like to cry at work. “I couldn’t help but notice you seem a bit distressed. Is there anything I can do to help? Grab a tissue box? Hold your hand? Barricade the hall so you can have a few moments in peace?”</p><p>Any resolve the other man had mustered dissolved before his eyes as pure panic crossed the blonde’s face. “I can’t do it.”</p><p>Dorian frowned. “Can’t do what?”</p><p>Gulping in more air at an alarming rate, the other man began to speak in time with his breaths. “I know it’s a requirement. Everyone. Everyone has to do the sessions. It makes sense. It’s good! It is. It’s good. <em>But I just can’t.</em> They’ll have to find someone else. I shall just have to leave.”</p><p>Dorian raised his hands to reach out and then pulled them back a bit, realizing it might not be wise. “Hey, Look at me. You’re breathing too quickly, You need to slow down a bit.”</p><p>“<em>I can’t.</em>”</p><p>“I know. It’s hard right now. But you can follow my breathing and together maybe we can slow it down.” Dorian began breathing loudly, as though preparing for shavasana at the end of his biweekly yoga practice, counting softly on each exhale. After a few minutes, they were both nearly breathing synchronously. </p><p>With that done, Dorian shifted a bit, adjusting his maroon sweater to lay properly against his fitted jeans. Just a bit; he was becoming uncomfortable in the tense, somewhat stooped posture he’d adopted while unconsciously mimicking the distress of his companion. It was enough, however, to merit a panicked grasp from the other man.</p><p>“Wait!” The man was still pale and still struggling with his breath. “Wait a moment.”</p><p>Dorian awkwardly patted the man’s tightly flexing hand against his forearm. “I’m not leaving, don’t worry. Do you think you can tell me what is wrong now? Maybe I can help.”</p><p>His companion shook his head, but drew a deep slow breath and removed his clutching grip to rub fiercely at his face. “Getting help is the problem. As you’ve likely assessed from my demeanor, I’m a bit shit at it.”</p><p>Dorian huffed with exaggerated haughtiness, though he was sure to soften it with a smile. “I’ll thank you to leave my judgments to me. I assure you I am quite capable of making them. And the only thing I have concluded at the moment is that you have lovely eyes.” Which was quite true, in all honesty. When he’d had time to notice that fact was anyone’s guess.</p><p>The flirtation was perhaps a bit inappropriate for a work setting, but it did bring a bit of color back into the other man’s face so Dorian counted it as a win. “Well. Ah. Be that as it may, I have it from multiple authorities that I am terrible at accepting help.” He smiled a bit, though it still had a bit of a wobble to it. “I don’t know if you’ve taken on any field work?” At Dorian’s blank look, he continued, “No? Well, you might have seen recently the new counseling policy for anyone with field responsibilities? That policy may or may not have been instituted especially for me.”</p><p>Dorian laughed politely, but trailed off with a cock of his head when the other man did not smile in return. “Oh dear, are you serious? Perhaps you have stuck your foot in it a bit, haven’t you?”</p><p>Now the smile returned, though it was a self deprecating one. “Without a doubt. And, as I have just demonstrated for you, humiliatingly, the reason I haven’t yet been to a single one of my many therapy appointments this year is the idea. Ah. Puts me in a bit of, um, a state.”</p><p>“A state. Yes.”</p><p>The other man cleared his throat lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m at quite a loss, really. How does one get therapy for being panicked at the idea of therapy?”</p><p>Dorian had the sudden urge to shake the idiot in front of him. “Well you don’t try to go alone, for starters. Honestly.” Instead of grabbing the other man, who deserved a throttling, he restrained himself, quite admirably, to simply flinging back his head to plead to the heavens briefly. “So when is it, then?”</p><p>“When is what?” The blonde was frowning at him now, when he looked back, like a lost golden retriever, this one.</p><p>Dorian arched an eyebrow. Hopefully the poor dear wasn’t usually this dense. “Your appointment, of course. Are we already late?” Dorian checked his phone for the time. It wasn’t yet to the hour so chances were good that they still had time.</p><p>“I can’t go! Dear Maker, I may be able to string a sentence together, but only because part of me knows that I would never make it in time now. It must be a quarter past already.” The man paled a bit again from just the idea, but his breathing was still even so that was a good sign.</p><p>“Actually it’s 10 ‘til, so we have some time, especially if you call ahead. And you weren’t listening: I will be coming with you. You won’t be going alone.” Dorian looped his arm through his companion’s and tugged lightly to get him in motion. Really, sometimes others just needed a bit of a push. The other hand quickly fired off a brief text to Felix and blocked his calendar for the rest of the afternoon.</p><p>Surprisingly the other man followed along without so much as a complaint as Dorian headed toward the elevator banks. It was slow, but he didn’t need to drag him, either. “Isn’t that...um, illegal? Or unethical?”</p><p>“Nonsense.” Dorian brushed the idea away with a toss of his hand. “Only if it was done without your consent. Group therapy is a thing, my dear.”</p><p>“Right. I knew that.” Coloring slightly again, the blonde looked down at his shoes as the elevator arrived to take them down to the lobby.</p><p>Dorian released the other’s arm to step onto the elevator, but looked back once aboard to hold out his hand. “Coming?” he asked, with his most devastating smile.</p><p>Sighing heavily, the other man accepted his hand firmly, clasping it like a lifeline. “Have you got a baggie with you? It is possible that I may need to get sick.”</p><p>***</p><p>Unfortunately, it was a short walk down the street to the counseling office he’d selected. Before he had the opportunity to use his portable doggie poo bag for anything unsavory, he and his...new friend?...were seated comfortably on a plush couch waiting for the therapist to join them. The office was much less clinical than he’d expected—no white walls or bookshelves loaded with intimidating tomes. Instead it felt as though he’d stepped into a bachelor’s living room, with a pair of La-Z-Boys offset against the couch he’d settled in and a coffee table with the obligatory gossip magazines in between. Sports memorabilia cluttered the walls alongside photos of friends and several prominent studio portraits of an orange cat.</p><p>“Breathing is still necessary,” his bronze companion reminded him, patting the top of their clasped hands for what was likely the fifth or sixth time. Cullen inhaled as deeply as he could, doing his best to stop white knuckling the other man’s hand. It couldn’t be comfortable for him and he really shouldn’t abuse his kindness any further than he already had. No matter how much of a lifeline it had proven to be thus far.</p><p>Finally the side door opened and a friendly young man in sweats walked in and sat himself in the recliner opposite them. An orange tabby joined them as well, appearing quite suddenly next to the couch to rub it vigorously with its cheek before sauntering over to the seated counselor and hopping up onto the arm of the chair.</p><p>A warm smile bloomed on the therapist’s face. In any other situation it would have made Cullen feel very welcome. “Good morning! I’m Anders and this is Sir Pounce-a-Lot. I know we have a warning about him on our site but please let me know if he’s a bother and I can kick him to the curb. He’s really just here to get the hot goss anyway, the nosy ass.”</p><p>Cullen had actually forgotten about the cat notice since he’d initially selected this office. There had been so many canceled appointments between today and when he’d done his research that the bizarre warning note had completely slipped his mind. Well. It did not seem so bizarre now that he was faced with a judgmental furry face in addition to a stranger who would be asking him to unload all of his most shameful moments in life. </p><p>That being said, it would be rude not to properly introduce ones’ self, so Cullen reached out the hand not currently clinging on for dear life. The cat was still a few feet away, but he lifted his head to sniff anyway, scanning the room slightly as he did so. Something must have passed muster because the little tabby hopped off his cushy arm to circle over to Cullen’s leg and rub it once before circling behind the leg of his unfortunate coworker for a second rub. The cat then settled itself again, this time hopping across their laps to lay on the back of the couch between the two men seated there.</p><p>His companion snorted lightly. “I have never met a cat that didn’t desperately want to shed all over my dark clothing.”</p><p>Their therapist laughed brightly. “You should consider it an honor. He tends to scope out the newbies from a safe distance. Well.” At that, the cheerful man clapped his hands together. Cullen tried his best not to jump out of his seat. “Let’s get to it, shall we? As you may have noticed,” here the man laughed lightly, gesturing to his less-than-professional attire,”I like to keep things pretty casual around here.  I find it tends to ease everyone into things. Especially in sessions like these, it can be very difficult to open up and I’m really impressed with you both that you’ve decided to take this step. It takes a lot of courage.”</p><p>Anders sat forward in his chair, looking at them both intently for a brief moment, as if trying to confirm that they accepted the sincerity of his praise. Cullen found that he had, however corny it might sound to some. </p><p>“This first session today will be entirely a get-to-know-you exercise. Nothing heavy and hopefully it will be a little fun. Think of it like an online quiz! Everyone loves those. Did you bring your clean journals?”</p><p>Cullen’s stomach dropped. Damnation. He had completely forgotten about the instructions the administrator had given him when he’d last scheduled things. He could feel his eyes widening in horror as his grip on his new friend gained a few pounds of pressure. His mouth dropped open, presumably to issue an apology, but it was belayed by a firm jerk on his arm. Looking over, his companion was frowning gently and patted their clasped hands softly, in a soothing gesture. Shaking his head, the darker man looked back to the therapist. “I’m afraid we were in a bit of a rush to get here and neglected to grab all but the essentials. I hope it won’t be a problem?”</p><p>“Of course not,” the therapist replied, with much more cheer than was really necessary, in Cullen’s opinion. “I keep plenty of spares around, they just may not be to your preference. It’s why I always suggest patients bring in their own from home. I’ll go grab some while you two look over the questions.”</p><p>The therapist hopped to his feet and slid out the side door quickly, leaving Cullen alone with a cat and a veritable stranger. After a brief moment of tunnel vision from the neatly averted descent into panic, he abruptly came back to himself staring at a sheet of questions that had been deposited on the table in front of him. Clearly, that was what the therapist had been referring to.</p><p>His companion reached over to pick up the list, frowning lightly as he began to skim down its contents. “Hmm.” His tone was even, giving no indication of whether the questions were going to provide the promised fun.</p><p>Cullen had a low tolerance for suspense at the moment. “Well? What have we got?”</p><p>The other man glanced up, frown deepening as he took stock of the anxiety in Cullen’s face. “Oh. Well...there may be a slight issue I hadn’t thought of. I think we can probably manage. Does it seem appropriate that he’s grabbing his materials from Buzzfeed?”</p><p>Cullen’s face scrunched in confusion at the non-sequitur. “<em>What?</em>”</p><p>A brief knock at the door sounded before the therapist re-entered, two spiral-bound notebooks, a pen tucked in each wire swirl, in hand. “Blue or red?”</p><p>Cullen again found himself momentarily speechless from the rollercoaster of events unfolding around him. He looked back to his co-worker, hoping he, at least, could provide some further support as he had done ‘til now. The other man met his gaze briefly and smiled reassuringly as he responded. “Red really isn’t my color, so best give me the blue one.”</p><p>Anders smiled apologetically, “Like I said, there isn’t much of a selection.” Returning to his seat, he leaned back, clearly making himself comfortable. “So, I like to run through a few of these questions myself, with all of us together. There’s way too much to get through in the hour we have, though, so the rest are for you to take home and answer at your leisure, either separately or together. Ideally, it is all information you already know about one another and, if not, well, that’s what we’re trying to fix, now, isn’t it? The notebooks are for you to write your responses in, by the way. I’ll be giving you a few of these little homework assignments along the way, so it’s good to have somewhere to keep it all together.”</p><p>Cullen felt himself nodding along, though the rush of information was hard to absorb, as shaky as he was currently. It seemed slightly out of step with his expectations of the session, but he could not put his finger on exactly the reason.</p><p>Anders waived a hand vaguely in their direction. “Why don’t we start with some brief introductions. Name, rank, serial number, and all that.”</p><p>The man next to him smiled, this time in the therapist’s direction instead of his own. It struck him, oddly, as rather unfair, as though the other man, <em>Anders</em>, should not have yet earned the privilege. “Dorian Pavus, recently of Minrathous, though currently, of course, I make my home in this fine city and have done so for a handful of years now.” The darker man sketched a sort of seated bow which would have been impressive to Cullen if he wasn’t trying frantically to place his name. Wasn’t Cassandra telling him a few days ago he should seek out a Pavus for some help? “I specialize in the necromantic arts, the skills of which I employ in the service of the Inquisition, alongside this lovely specimen beside me.” The warm smile turned in his direction and Cullen found himself answering it in kind, despite the thrumming anxiety swirling in his stomach. </p><p>A throat cleared. His companion, <em>Dorian</em>, tapped his hand. “It’s your turn, my dear.”</p><p>Cullen blushed so hard he could feel it in his ears. “Right! Of course.” He shifted a bit so he wasn’t simply mooning in Dorian’s direction, but could direct his answers to the therapist. “Commander Cullen Rutherford, Inquisition Tactical. I...well, I don’t actually have a serial number anymore though I did when. Ah. When I was with the Templars.” Cullen flinched internally, realizing abruptly that perhaps his beautiful, friendly co-worker would lose a bit of that warmth after learning just a few basic pieces of information about him. What a shame.</p><p>Anders, however, laughed at his poor attempt at humor, moving the conversation past what might have been an awkward silence. “Luckily those aren’t necessary here. So you two work together, huh? That must be an interesting challenge.”</p><p>Dorian chuckled, shaking his head a little with a knowing smile. “We’ve been managing by staying as far away from each other during the work day as possible, while still being on the same floor. Why, I go days without even bumping into him.” </p><p>Cullen snorted and took a breath to add that they hadn’t even spoken to each other before today, but stopped himself, holding the breath in uncomfortably as several pieces of information coalesced in his numbed brain at once. No wonder this conversation had seemed strange—Anders thought they were a <em>couple</em>. Romantically involved. Oh. Oh fuck.</p><p>Unaware of his internal revelations, Anders and Dorian had carried on. “That seems like a reasonable strategy, though perhaps unneeded, but we don’t need to get into that kind of thing today. What do you guys like to do outside of work? Hobbies? Sports?”</p><p>“Nothing too exciting, I’m afraid. Of course, I enjoy the usual pastimes: drinks out with friends, the occasional movie, a night in with Netflix, traveling a couple of times a year.” Dorian quickly glanced in Cullen’s direction, assessing his readiness to respond and finding it wanting, no doubt.</p><p>Anders did not notice, or if he did, he did not show as much. His demeanor suggested nothing more than a casual conversation. “Oh? Where do you travel?”</p><p>“For awhile, anywhere but Tevinter.” Dorian laughed brightly at his own joke, bringing Anders along with him. “I have been back home once or twice, but I like to get to places I wasn’t able to travel to conveniently before. You know, Denerim, Val Royeaux, the rest of the Marches. The usual tourist spots.”</p><p>“You stick mostly to the cities, then? Not one for nature?”</p><p>Dorian smirked. “I like nature from a distance. A good landscape painting is my favored way to appreciate nature.”</p><p>Anders chuckled at that and turned a bit intentionally in Cullen’s direction. “What about you? What are your hobbies outside of work?”</p><p>Self-conscious now that he realized just how significantly he’d misled this poor therapist, Cullen tried to keep his tone even and a scowl off his face. “Well, I’m sure more work doesn’t count as a hobby?” When Anders shook his head, confirming that was unacceptable, Cullen continued. “I’ve always been quite fond of chess. My sister and I had quite the rivalry in our youth.”</p><p>“Not anymore though?” Anders grinned, no doubt reflecting on the nature of sibling competitions.</p><p>“I wouldn’t say that.” Cullen allowed a sly smile to seep through. At least it wasn’t a frown. “Mia is just too busy with the kids to give a game the attention it deserves these days. We used to play on our phones, though, before they came along.”</p><p>“We should play sometime, then.” Dorian added, unexpectedly. When Cullen turned he saw the darker man had adopted a disinterested demeanor, checking his nails casually. “I’m a fair hand at chess. I dare say, I should be able to provide a reasonable challenge.”</p><p>“Ah, that’s what I like to see. Breakthroughs in communication already!” Anders pumped his fist in the air, with celebratory gusto. "You know," he added conspiratorially, leaning forward and cupping a hand around his mouth, "sometimes I think my patients just need to learn how to date." Leaning back, he continued more seriously, "It is a skill, after all. One that requires a bit of practice. And much easier to fix than when a couple comes in who just don’t like each other anymore. Thankfully, seeing the two of you together, it's clear that's not an issue here." The therapist smiled warmly in a way that was no doubt intended to be reassuring. It did nothing to stop the heat that had erupted across Cullen's face. And chest. And neck. Maker. </p><p>"So, where are you two in your relationship? Are you living together yet?" </p><p>A probably hysterical bark of laughter escaped Cullen at the question. Luckily, Dorian had a more constructive response, and a polite level of laughter. "Oh no,” he said, waving a hand airily, “It’s still early days yet. I can barely get this one to talk to me.”</p><p>Cullen turned to stare at his companion, eyes widening comically. How in the world was he providing such truthful answers that managed to nevertheless be wholly misleading? Then the light jab at his honor filtered through the white noise in his brain.</p><p>“That’s not entirely fair,” Cullen shook his head with a hint of frown. “You always seem to catch me when I’m at my worst.”</p><p>“Very true,” Dorian agreed, with equanimity. Turning towards the therapist slightly, he added, “Today is a good example; the idea of therapy makes Cullen a bit panicky. We thought it would be easier to start things off together rather than send him in all on his own.”</p><p>“Ah. Yes, I’ve some familiarity with that,” Anders nodded sympathetically. “Typically I recommend cognitive behavioral therapy for panic disorders, but perhaps that is something we should work up towards, not a beginning point for you. There are a lot of treatment routes we can explore and perhaps if we start with some little adjustments we can work our way to bigger ones.” </p><p>Cullen seemed to have the counselor’s full attention now and he wasn’t sure he was entirely comfortable with that. He shifted restlessly, thinking of the variety of horrors he would shortly be asked to revisit. The therapist’s friendly face seemed to take this in without comment and after a brief pause he continued quietly. “As an example - how are things with your day to day, Cullen? Are you able to eat regular meals? Get a few hours of sleep each night? That kind of thing?”</p><p>Smiling ruefully, Cullen shook his head. “I can manage my regular hygiene just fine, but the other things you mentioned—sleep and meals—fall by the wayside more often than not. I am only able to keep my hair in check because I know it would terrify my coworkers to see this rat’s nest in its natural state.” As he said this, he ran a hand over his head to indicate the firmly controlled curls atop.</p><p>“Hmm. Doubtful.” Dorian muttered quietly.</p><p>Anders nodded along as Cullen spoke  with only the barest glance towards Dorian at the added commentary. “Yep. When we’re running on fumes everything else becomes that much harder. Luckily, that’s something that those of us in your life that care about you, like Dorian, can help you with, if you’re open to accepting that help.” The scruffy blonde had abruptly gone full therapist, complete with sincerity and a face full of compassionate understanding.</p><p>Cullen huffed. “I don’t want to burden others like that.”</p><p>Anders shook his head in gentle rebuke. “We all need someone else to care for us from time to time. Part of strength is knowing your limits. There’s no shame in that, and I think you’ll find that your friends and family will be happy to give you a little extra support. If they aren’t, I would seriously consider some new friends.”</p><p>Frowning further, as he might with a recruit, Cullen tried again to explain his very appropriate objection. “I can carry my own weight. I am not a child in need of tending.”</p><p>Pressure on his palm drew his attention back to his companion, with whom he’d continued to tightly clasp hands without his being fully aware. When he looked up, Dorian’s eyes held more concern than he’d noted at any point thus far. His expression, however, was decidedly firm, as though about to deliver a lecture or scold a child. “Cullen, do you have your staff report in when they are ill?” the darker man asked.</p><p>Bewildered by the sudden topic change, Cullen provided an immediate negative.</p><p>“Well, surely when there is some injury in the field you don’t bench them or send them home, yes? They are still expected to be as productive as anyone else on the team, after all.”</p><p>Cullen nearly sneered at the gorgeous man before him. You couldn’t always trust your first impressions of someone, could you? “Absolutely not. What a perfect way to endanger the whole team. Injuries must be properly tended and if I hear of anyone doing otherwise, they are treated to further light duty.” How he could sit there looking so self-satisfied that he was nearly smiling, only the Maker knew.</p><p>“Oh, so you do understand what it means to take a break when it’s appropriate then? Excellent. For a moment it sounded like you felt as if that standard did not apply to you.” Dorian lifted an immaculately groomed eyebrow at him. “I can assure you, it does indeed.”</p><p>Cullen did not have a fitting rejoinder to that. Indeed, that peculiar white noise seemed to be filling his mind again. At least Dorian was not some disguised demon here to tempt him. That realization calmed him enough to complain, “I’m too queasy most mornings to eat anyway. It doesn’t trouble me.”</p><p>“Cullen.” Anders leaned forward again, his face carefully gentle. “It’s important to be just as forgiving with yourself as you are with those around you.” He paused, considering something. “Well, I guess this got a tad heavier than I prefer for a first session. This is important, though, so I’m giving you a bit more homework than I’d planned. I want you—the both of you, mind, I won’t be picking favorites here—to try to practice self-care at least once a week before we meet again next. I can see the confusion on your face, Cullen, search it up, it’s a hashtag. It doesn’t need to be anything fancy, but I want you both to start building the habit. So, should be simple enough.” He began ticking items off his fingers. “Get some self-care in weekly, complete your questionnaires, and I’ll see you both back in, what? A couple of weeks?”</p><p>Cullen nodded woodenly, which Anders seemed satisfied with as an affirmative.</p><p>Clapping his hands on his knees loudly, the therapist stood up, stretching a bit. “Great! It was wonderful to meet the both of you. I’ll look forward to seeing you again soon. If you just head back out to reception you can get your schedule squared away.” He gestured to the door behind them, shepherding them gently from his office. Cullen felt himself being led gently by the hand off the couch, from the office, through reception, and out of the building. He tried his best not to be dead weight, but the static in his brain made it difficult to focus on anything but the hand held tightly in his own.</p><p>***</p><p>Safely back on the sidewalk, Dorian took a deep breath of fresh air. Venhedis. That had been a mess back there. Well played, Dorian. Drag a deeply traumatized man to therapy and turn the session itself into it’s very own drama. Nicely done.</p><p>Unclenching his hand from the pale grip it had been holding for the better part of an hour, he looked up at the man next to him carefully. Discreet examination revealed that the other man’s demeanor had improved dramatically from when they’d entered the building and that, surprisingly, he no longer even looked particularly upset. After a moment, amber eyes met his own and Dorian found himself being carefully regarded in return.</p><p>He cleared his throat. “That did not go quite as I’d intended.”</p><p>Cullen laughed quietly, a light flush dusting his cheekbones fetchingly. “Therapy is certainly a non-traditional setting for a first date.” Seemingly realizing the implications of his comment too late, the blonde abruptly gasped and jerked his eyes to Dorian, widening in horror. “My apologies. Not that we couldn’t! Just—Maker, I think I need to sit down.”</p><p>Unable to quite parse the mix of reactions he’d just witnessed, Dorian decided to take pity on the other man instead of drawing any conclusions. Firmly ignoring the awkwardness, he quickly glanced around the block. Just across the street there was a cafe that would meet their needs admirably.</p><p>“Come along, then.” he said softly, again reaching for the other man’s arm and pulling him along. He followed without hesitation which filled Dorian with a strange warmth that was best left unexamined.</p><p>The walk was brief, traffic light in the quiet period between lunch and the end of the work day. Dorian directed his companion to seat himself in a wrought iron chair and ducked into the establishment to procure some much needed refreshment. In just a few minutes he’d obtained two piping hot chocolates and some discounted muffins that still looked enticing. It didn’t seem the moment to try and guess at a coffee order; Dorian hoped his new friend didn’t have any unfortunate allergies. After distributing his bounty and seating himself in the opposing chair, he reviewed the items he had before him and snickered a bit deliriously to himself.</p><p>“Shall we review the rest of the questionnaire together now? Or was that something you wished to complete independently?” His voice, as he made the inquiry, was oddly high pitched and tight. Not his usual tone for a joke, which he was definitely making. This whole situation was absolutely funny.</p><p>Cullen was already halfway through his muffin—and thoroughly absorbed in the task—but looked over at him solemnly at the question. Reaching out, he pulled the paper around to an angle better suited to his view and skimmed through the contents while he chewed. A minute ticked by, then two.</p><p>Setting his food and drink aside fully, Cullen glanced back up at Dorian, meeting his gaze straight on. “I would be very interested to hear your responses to all of these questions,” he said firmly as red filled his complexion. </p><p>Dorian could not break his gaze away from the astonishing man in front of him. He couldn’t have misheard him, yet his statement hardly began to make sense. Was his chest feeling tight? He made a half-hearted attempt at a polite laugh, smile wobbly. “I fear that would make for dreadfully boring reading, my dear.” He reached out and gave a pat to the hand on the paper across from him. That seemed to be becoming a habit of his. “Why don’t you finish your muffin; you’re looking much less peaked now.”</p><p>Cullen did not pick up his muffin, instead brushing a few crumbs away while continuing to eye Dorian curiously. “Actually, I was thinking I would rather hear your answers directly. Perhaps…” He glanced down, smoothing a hand over his head to the back of his neck. “Perhaps over dinner? Friday night?”</p><p>Dorian could only stare. This man could not be real. "After the events of the past few hours I cannot imagine a scenario in which you would want to see me again." His voice was tight and strangled, throat refusing to work appropriately. </p><p>Frowning, Cullen reached out with both hands and took one of Dorian's in a firm grip. "This afternoon a stranger saw me in the midst of an awful moment of fear and weakness. Instead of ignoring it, he helped me and then proceeded to stay with me while I faced something that had been a source of terror for years. Why wouldn't I want to see you again? Why wouldn't I want you in my life, in whatever way you choose to share your time with me?" The blonde looked away, probably regrouping after uttering the most words he'd spoken all day. Quietly, almost too low to be audible, he continued, “Today when you took my hand...it...it made me feel safe. I can’t remember the last time I felt that way.”</p><p>Dorian squeezed the hands in his, abruptly feeling as if he might cry. “I fear I won’t be capable of living up to your expectations but...I think I might like to try” He swallowed hard in the hopes of maintaining control of his voice. “So, this Friday then?”</p><p>Cullen’s head swung around to face him, surprise and happiness warring for control  of his facial expression. “Yes, Friday,” he confirmed, head nodding vigorously as happiness won and a grin erupted across his face. Joy suited the blonde much better than the anxiety and fear that Dorian had observed for the majority of their afternoon together. He found himself a tiny bit enraptured with what he saw.</p><p>They sat at the cafe table for a few minutes more, enjoying their beverages in the late afternoon sun. Not much was said, but the respite was a welcome one, the silence comfortable, and the hand in Dorian’s warm. Finally, Cullen’s phone buzzed from his pocket and they both recalled that they did, in fact, have jobs to return to. They tidied up quickly and set off down the street, close enough to bump elbows occasionally. After a nudge or two, Dorian felt a warm hand slide its way into his and he smiled brightly, heat gathering in his cheeks. </p><p>A block away from their building, Cullen tugged him to a stop, standing off to the side of the main path in a small alcove created by the facade of the adjacent building. “Before we go back in…” he trailed off, licking his lips nervously and unable to meet Dorian’s questioning gaze.</p><p>Dorian’s stomach dropped. This was the part when they discussed how this kind of thing wasn’t really <em>appropriate</em> in a workplace environment so could it just stay between the two of them? Sighing internally he decided to try to be fair to Cullen. It had been <em>a day</em>. And truthfully, public displays of affection <em>weren’t</em> really office appropriate. Especially between co-workers.</p><p>After another deep breath, though, Cullen went on. “...Could I. Well. Could I kiss you?” He looked up at Dorian from under his eyelashes and that was just simply unfair. Who could refuse a face like that? Not that Dorian would ever think to do so.</p><p>“Yes. Absolutely. Right now, if you please.” Grinning, and not a small bit relieved at the unexpectedly pleasant request, Dorian grabbed Cullen by the shoulder and pulled him forward, their lips meeting softly in the middle. The scents of muffins, warm milk and chocolate mixed deliciously with a sharp note of a spicy scent Dorian suspected was pomade. After a moment, Dorian couldn't help but open his lips to take a small taste and the other man sighed into it, biting back gently. </p><p>They stayed in the warm space of each other’s arms for a few minutes, tasting and touching, hands combing through the hair at Cullen’s nape as arms wrapped around Dorian’s midsection, teasing ever so slightly at the hem of his top. Slowly, they pulled apart, kisses turning from indulgent to chaste pecks, and caresses trailing off to simply holding each other before stepping fully apart. It was marvelous.</p><p>“Well,” Dorian commented, after clearing his throat, “I don’t know how you expect me to go back to work after that.”</p><p>The blonde grinned, unrepentant and a little smug though his ruddy complexion undermined it somewhat. “I wanted to thank you. And make sure you wouldn’t be tempted to back out come Friday.”</p><p>Dorian scrunched his face in confusion, tapping his chin. “Were we scheduled for Friday? I was sure it was this evening we had decided to meet.”</p><p>Cullen gasped out a soft laugh, nodding. “Of course. My mistake. Thankfully you are here to keep me honest.” He reached out, fingers tracing the line of one bronzed cheekbone.</p><p>“Speaking of,” Dorian added, thoughtfully, “what are we going to tell your therapist?”</p><p>“Oh fuck.”</p>
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